As I look out the window, I want to remember the last three weeks. I would stay longer in Switzerland, continuing my visits to castles and mountains, drinking with my friends, walking in the vineyard of my aunt. Although I have created many fond memories, the trip back will be melancholic.

As I’m looking out the window, the row of seats move, someone sitting beside me. I sigh internally, hoping it would be empty, ignoring whoever is now there.

As we take off, I gaze one last time at the beautiful country before the clouds cover the landscape.

The soft cries that I’ve been hearing since takeoff become snuffles. I retrieve a pack of tissue and turn toward my left.

Her beauty is mesmerizing, her long blond hair cascading on the seat, her deep blue eyes piercing my heart, and a delicate face that just makes you smile. Even though she has been crying for the past thirty minutes, she remains beautiful.

Softening my voice, I tell her, “For you.”

Looking at me, she softly says with her Swiss-German accent, “Dankschön. Sorry about my…” She doesn’t finish, tears running again.

I smile compassionately to make her feel better. When she stops, I tell her, “No need to be sorry. Can I ask what makes you so sad?”

With a trembling lower lip, she tells me, “I’m relocating to work abroad, leaving my family, friends, and country behind,” crying as she ends.

Over the next six hours, we talk about our respective gloom, her leaving, me going back home. We comfort each other, two strangers trying to help one another.

After we land, we stay close as we go through the airport, only splitting at immigration. After a long wait, she finally appears, having received her work visa. We grab our luggage in silence, reality hitting home.

As we head for the exit doors, I stop her. “Here is my number, if you ever want company,” I tell her apprehensively.

“I’d love to,” she tells me tenderly.

As I give her the paper, our hands touch, thrill running through my arm. I smile widely at her, hoping she calls me soon.

“Are you okay to head to your hotel?” I ask her.

“A driver is waiting for me. You?” she replies softly.

“My father is picking me up,” I answer, not leaving her deep blue eyes.

A few silent seconds pass before she says, “Shall we go?”

We cross the doors, I spot my father on the right, she goes to the left for the row of drivers. We look at each other before we head on our separate ways.

On the drive home, my father tries to ask questions about my trip, but he soon realizes that I’m not in the mood. He drops me at my house, leaving me to my gloom, as reality hits me.

A few hours later, I get a text from an unknown number, saying, “I feel so alone. I’ve been crying since I’ve settled down. I want to see you.”

My heart jumps at the message, sad and happiness competing. I reply, “Sure. What do you have in mind?”

“I’ll come to you. What’s your address?” she replies instantly.

Surprised, I send it to her.

She texts back, “In an Uber, arriving in thirty minutes.”

I hurry to clean, hiding the laundry piles. As I put the vacuum cleaner away, I hear the doorbell ring. She is here!

I open the door, finding her on my porch with puffy eyes, inviting her in.

She says with a heavy voice, “I feel so alone. Make me want to stay here.”

Slowly, I close the gap between us, leaving my instinct tell me what to do, what I think she wants. I stop shy of touching her lips, our faces close enough that I feel her sadness, her desire to forget she is away.

She presses her lips, feeling a second time her soft skin on mine. We kiss softly, our hands forming a cocoon around us.

When she has calmed down, I move my face away and say, “Come, I’ll make you feel like home.”

Hand in hand, I guide her to my bedroom. We undress each other in silence, our simple presence enough to express our needs. I invite her under the sheets, to share our bodies, to comfort our souls, to quench our thirst for closeness, to fuck our worries away.

As I insert myself in her, she urges me to make her feel better, to make her forget. As I undulate my pelvis, a smile forms on her face, her mind focusing on the moment. As I suck her breasts, she looks deeply at me, sharing her desire. As I rub her clit, she moans louder, showing the pleasure I’m giving her.

We move, leaving me rest as I’m heaving. She straddles me, making me sigh as her soft pussy encircles me. She bounces on me, making me breathe louder as the intense pleasure builds inside of me. She cries with joy, making me smile as I’m massaging her clit again. She increases speed, making me lose any restraint as I feel my balls tighten. She cums, making me release my seed as I’m reaching my orgasm.

She presses her body on mine as we go through our nirvana, as our proximity eases the pain. Her breathing finally calms down, her head resting on my chest. I capture the moment, another fond memory from my trip to Switzerland.

Shortly after, she says with a warm smile, “I’m Celia, by the way.”

We laugh. As I give her my name, she moves forward to kiss. Our attraction is obvious, our feelings are quickly building, our desire hardening by the seconds.

As she puts my cock back in her, I ponder that even though I would have loved to stay in Switzerland, a part of it is by my side, hoping that she stays for a long time.